"I wasn't just a clerk," she said. "It was a foot in the door, you know?" My degree was in hospitality management. When not manning the front desk, I was part of their event-planning team. If all went well, I wouldn't have been manning that front desk forever.
"And they paid you dick," Jake said.
I glared at him. "How would you know?"
"Not hard to figure out."
I gave him a dirty look. "You owe me a job," I said.
"So I'll get you one," he said.
"Yeah, right."
"First things first," he said. "About that text—"
I buried my face in my hands. In my concern for everything I'd just lost – my apartment, my job, my sanity – I'd almost forgotten about that stupid text. Besides, it still didn't make any sense.
Jake made a show of glancing toward the back seat. "The longer you stall," he said, "the longer Trey wears those things."
"Like you care."
"You're right," he said. "I don't." He gave me a look. "But I figured you might."
I peeked around my seat. In the back seat, Trey was tapping away on the computer keys. Working? Or playing? He didn't looktoomiserable. Then again, hewasbeing paid. Supposedly.
I looked toward Jake and held out my hand. "First," I said. "Let me see your phone."
He glanced at my hand. "Why?"
"That text you showed me — I want to read it again."
Silently, Jake pulled out his phone and handed it over. It was a similar model to my own, and I slid my finger across the smooth screen. I frowned. "It wants a password," I said.
Jake said nothing.
My fingers waited, still poised at the password prompt. "Well?" I said.
He glanced out his window and said, "Luna."
"Yeah? What?"
Looking oddly uncomfortable, Jake cleared his throat. "That's the password."
I gave him a good, long look. His password wasmyname? "Really?" I said. "Why?"
"Just read the text," he said.
My mind whirling, I tapped in the password. When the screen came to life, that previous text was still showing. Looking down, I felt my eyebrows furrow.
Itstilldidn't make any sense.
